Home for the Hunga-Rican Holidays
by Javanyet
Summary: Chico & the Man real world AU. Freddie Prinze persuades his assistant and lover Molly to spend Thanksgiving in New York with his family. His suspicious dad gives Molly an earful, triggering Freddie's long-pent-up anger toward the father who never believed in him. When Molly refuses to return to L.A. with him, Freddie agrees to try one last time to get through to his father.
1. Ambushed

Freddie woke Molly too early, to the usual whimpers of protest. "I gotta tell you something." When she didn't respond right away he added, "I brought coffee."

"Leave it on the night stand," she groaned, rolling away to hide under the pillow.

He lifted the edge and peeked in at her. "_Chica_, this is important, try to focus."

She pulled the blankets over the pillow and mumbled, "This is as good as it gets right now. Shoot."

Freddie leaned close to the pile of bedding, and murmured in his most quietly persuasive voice, "Come to New York with me for Thanksgiving. It's time to be brave and meet my parents." No movement, but Molly's voice was a little more distinct than before.

"You're _loco_. Your parents would hate me."

"No, no, my parents love you already." He leaned an arm over her to keep her from rolling away. "Really. They know how hard you work to keep me together, how you listen to me and put up with my bullshit, they know how we've been friends almost from the start. They know how brave and strong you are because I've told them."

"Ten bucks says you left out a minor detail," she snorted from beneath the pillow.

Glad she couldn't see him grimace, he breezed by the comment and promised, "We can stay at a hotel if you want."

Out popped Molly's head. "Holy crap, you're serious, aren't you?"

"As a heart attack, mama. Come on, I know you can't go to Jimmy and Ruth's because they're going to Tahiti or someplace."

"St. Thomas."

"Yeah, sand and palm trees, whatever. So I figure this is your first big holiday alone, you know, since…" he hesitated.

"You mean after Reggie? Wendy and me always did Thanksgiving no matter what Reggie said. It was worth the beating to be together for that. But she said she's gonna do turkey with Joey and his family, you know the other bartender, he has it so bad for her and she's finally gonna give it a chance."

He sat back and observed, "Imagine that. She's gonna give it a chance and do turkey with him and his family. What a thought." Molly said nothing, but smirked up at him, so he dialed up the boyish charm to maximum. "C'mon, you know you don't want to be all alooooooone while I'm living it up back East."

"Living it up. In Brooklyn." She did not look impressed.

"Nah, I bought ma and dad a place in Queens. Very high class. So how about coming to a nice friendly family Thanksgiving, Hunga-Rican style? My mom's family is much bigger than my dad's, but they're all pretty cool, cousins and nieces and nephews, you'll love 'em."

She looked thoughtful. "So these nephews... they as good looking as you?"

In a flat voice he told her, "They're sixteen and fourteen."

Her eyes widened in exaggerated innocence. "So? What's your point?"

"Oooh, trading down, huh?" he accused with feigned shock and warned, "Even in New York we got laws against that."

"Gotta catch me first." She dropped her face back into the pillow. "Look it's not fair to ambush me like this. I'm not fully conscious, I haven't had any coffee yet," she glanced at the clock. Eight a.m, _and_ it was Saturday. "It's too damn _early_."

Freddie switched to his upper crust English accent. "The element of surprise, my dear." Then, back to normal he asked, "Did it work?" He leaned down so his head was on the pillow, and looked into her face.

_Shit_. He looked so little-boy hopeful she hated to disappoint him, but at the same time she knew he was a master at cultivating the puppy-dog look and could turn it on and off like a flashlight.

"You _swear_ you haven't told them about us, like _this_ us?" She waved her hand to indicate the bed, with her in it and him plastered on top of her.

"I swear. They know everything else about us _except '_this' us. They want to meet you, Molly, they wanna meet the wonder woman who keeps me together and watches out for my life. Come on, it's been three _years_ and they wanna meet you."

"Lemme think about it, okay?" she begged.

Now he sat up and laughed. "Who you kiddin'? When you _think_ too much you get too _weird_. Say yes, _querida_, for once just say yes and for once _I'll_ take care of everything else, okay?"

She blew out a sigh. "Oh all _right_, I'll come to New York with you. I trust you to make all the arrangements and tell all the stories you need to tell. I'll even try to learn everybody's names. Now can I go back to _sleep_ for a while, huh?" She fought him off with a groan as he covered her face with kisses.

"Sure, _besita_, go back to sleep," he tucked her in neatly and promised, "We are gonna have a great time."

"Uh-huh," she grumped and went back to sleep.

* * *

"So what exactly did I agree to?" Molly asked as she stumbled into the living room an hour or so later, clad in panties and one of Freddie's cashmere sweaters.

"You're coming to New York with me for Thanksgiving. It's too late to change your mind, hah, I made the plane reservations while you were sleeping." Freddie looked very proud of himself.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and flopped into one of his cushy, oversized armchairs. "You shifty bastard. I thought I said I wanted to think about it."

"Then you said 'all right'. You must have missed that part."

She glared at him over the rim of her coffee mug as he crowded into the chair beside her and promised, "It's gonna be great. You'll love my family. They already love you. My mom has a whole army of crazy relatives and I promise they'll speak English for you."

Freddie seemed so wound up by the prospect of making holiday plans Molly thought she'd have to pull him down off the ceiling. She looked hard at him. "I think I liked you better when you were chasing teenagers."

"You are such a liar." He gave her a hug and copped a playful feel. "You wanna keep that sweater? It's more fun on you."

"Sure. I'll wear it to New York," she deadpanned. "You can tell your parents I'm a cross-dresser."

"Will you _relax_? You're gonna have a great time. I _promise_. So you gotta believe me."


	2. No secrets

Two weeks later Molly was sitting bolt upright next to the snoozing Freddie as they flew East.

She hadn't slept well the night before. She'd heard Freddie whisper in her ear, "Will you settle down? You are dancing the fandango here," as he'd re-arranged the covers for the millionth time after she'd kicked them off the bed or twisted them into knots. In the end he was forced to give up and back away, leaving her to twist and turn on her side of the bed. She got up crabby and exhausted. Freddie had packed her stuff while at her place the day before, so he grabbed her bags and his, called for the cab, and bundled her out the door. True to his promise, he had handled every detail so all she had to do was let him steer her. As they settled in their First Class seats he pleaded, "Try to get some sleep, okay? I wish you weren't such a big chicken about this." He draped his arm around her and tried to get her to take a nap on his shoulder, but she just couldn't shut her eyes. She knew she was being childish. So what else was new? In certain key areas of their lives Freddie was _always_ the grownup.

Molly was a complete wreck at the prospect of meeting Freddie's parents. She knew they would see right through the "friend" routine, they'd know right away she was sleeping with their twenty-something overnight sensation son, and they'd decide she was some kind of gold-digging pervert slut. Shit, how did she let him talk her into this?

"Hey, shut it off." Freddie was awake now, staring intently at her.

"Shut what off?"

"The brain, the scenarios, the worst case stuff. It is going to be fine, I swear it to you. How could anybody not love you?"

She blew a raspberry at him and reclined her seat, laying her head on his shoulder. "I can't sleep, Carlito, I'm trying to relax but I can't."

He pulled her around so she was lying across his lap, legs curled up on her seat, and he stroked her forehead and hair with long gentle fingers. "Just relax, _besita_, I'll take care of everything for a change." Then he spoke softly to her in Spanish, one of the few things he knew that she found so hypnotic she couldn't resist. In short order his quiet voice lulled her to sleep.

* * *

"Wake up, bonita, we're there." He helped her sit up as she smiled uncertainly.

"I promise I'll relax and be cool with your family."

"I know you will. and they will love you as much as I do." Making sure they were hidden by their seat backs, he wrapped his hand around the back of her head and kissed her lightly. "I promise. So you gotta believe me."

They got their luggage and picked up the car Freddie had rented.

"_Jesus_ Carlito," Molly gasped, "a silver Corvette? What are you, a pimp?"

He ignored her and loaded their luggage into the surprisingly roomy trunk. "Just get in, will you, and see how the other half drives."

* * *

They drove for about a half an hour until they came to a pretty little frame house in Queens. "See, I told you, real class." He took her hand as they approached the door. "The hotel will hold our room until we get there. I just wanna come say hi first." He banged once on the front door and then marched in. Molly trailed behind, trying to pry her hand from his.

"Ma!" he crowed, embracing the dark woman who greeted them. He lifted her off the floor, as he often did to Molly. She protested, as Molly always did. When he put her down at last, he stepped aside to introduce them.

"Ma," he said formally, "this is Molly O'Rourke, the lady who keeps your wild boy in line." The small attractive woman in front of her lit up with a smile that was a perfect echo of Freddie's.

"_Mucho gusto_, Molly. Freddie has told us so much about you over the years, welcome to our home."

"I'm so pleased to meet you at last, Mrs. Pruetzel."

Freddie's mom put an arm around Molly to lead her up the hall. "You must call me Maria." Molly realized with horror that Freddie's mother couldn't be more than four or five years older than she was. They walked to the kitchen, where a handsome man of average height and salt and pepper hair was drinking coffee at the table. He rose immediately and extended his hand.

"Molly O'Rourke. Welcome."

Molly had been in show business long enough to recognize a rehearsed line, but she managed a smile as she took his hand. She noticed he shook hers a bit stiffly. She was beginning to feel a little shy. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Pruetzel. It's been a long time I've been working with Freddie and it's taken too long for me to meet his family."

He nodded politely but Molly noticed he didn't invite her to call him "Karl".

As Freddie followed into the kitchen to greet his father. Maria told Molly, with apologies for her "bad manners", to feel free to explore the house on her own, because she was busy with preparations for the next day's meal.

"Bad manners? Please, I love to explore. I hope you don't think I'm rude for checking out every little thing."

As she wandered down the hall into a comfortable living room Molly browsed the photos on the wall. There was a studio head shot of Freddie, a few shots from the Chico set, then a group of black and white framed shots of him as a child. She tried to make the connection between the chubby, geeky-looking kid in the picture frames and the beautiful young man he'd become.

"I was some ugly duck, huh?" Freddie asked from behind her. She turned around and looked him up and down.

"But whatta swan you turned into."

He struck a Chico pose, hip shot, thumbs hooked in his belt. "I do what I can."

She gave him a shove. "Let's not get carried away, beautiful."

He shook his head like a big dog, hair flying. "Just keep calling me that and you can carry me away anywhere." When he saw her looking around nervously, he chided, "Hey relax, will you, chicken? That's what I'm gonna call you from now on, _pollo_, chicken."

"Don't you mean _polla_, the feminine version?" She'd been learning Spanish in her very minimal free time, and wanted to show off, but Freddie covered his mouth and faked a shocked face.

"Not this time," he told her in a confidential whisper, "'Polla' means, 'prick'."

"Oops. I'm not a chicken, anyway." She made a face for emphasis.

He leaned down and warned as always, "Hey I keep telling you your face is gonna get stuck like that, just ask Ma. Look, she's sending Dad and me out to buy all the stuff they forgot that they need for tomorrow. So you get to stay and get acquainted. Which is why I think she's booting our butts out anyway. and before you get all nervous, I'll say it again: relax. No reporters here!"

"Okay," she looked up at him with a hopeful smile. "I think maybe I'm loosening up already. This feels like such a friendly and easy place, I think I'm gonna be fine."

His dimpled, happy little-boy-smile beamed down at her. "What'd I tell you? You never listen. You gotta see for yourself, all the time."

She shook her head firmly. "Nope. I believe every word you say. Just takes me awhile to get used to it."

There were footsteps approaching, and Maria announced "Freddie, your father is waiting. Go and don't forget the list,_ por favor_, and don't let your papa buy a whole lot of other things we don't need."

"_Si_, Ma." He bent to kiss his mother's cheek as he followed his father out the door.

Molly spoke quickly to avoid an awkward silence. "So Maria, tell me how I can earn my keep?"

"Come with me, _chica_, I'm doing a little polishing. For holidays, we use the good silver."

Molly followed Maria into a lovely dining room dominated by a maple table augmented for the coming occasion by two extra leaves. In the center of the table was a mountain of flatware and serving ware. Maria set two chairs side by side and pointed to the jar of polish and pile of soft rags. "I'll start, and you'll finish, _si_?"

Molly sat in a chair and took a couple of rags. "_Si_."

They worked side by side, with the usual getting-to-know-you niceties. Maria wanted to know how Molly liked her job, if Freddie was easy to work with, how she managed to keep everything in order.

"Well you know Freddie can be a little, uh, exuberant," Molly confided, then laughed. "But when it comes to work he's right on point, and he's never really given me a hard time about anything. Oh, he may not always feel like going to this fan club opening or that Chico publicity thing, but he knows it's for the show and for his career. His agent lately is working on finding some movie scripts that might be good for him, and he's also setting up some stand-up dates at some clubs. Those will be tough, fitting in with the Chico schedule, but he's working to make them doable. Freddie really is dying to get back into stand-up gigs, he misses them so much, writing his own scripts and all. He's really happy with the show, and adores Jack and the others and they love him right back. He loves being what he calls 'one-on-crowd' with that direct link to the audience. I know he'll be excited about club dates, though, no matter how tough the schedule gets." She stopped, feeling self conscious about running on at the mouth. "But he's probably told you all this."

"Not all of it." Maria studied Molly's face and said "You're a good friend to Freddie. He's told us all about how he can talk to you about things, how you know him so well and can help him when he's having trouble, the kind of trouble with his nervousness and self-confidence that he might not talk about to us. He doesn't like to worry us. Freddie doesn't always believe he deserves the good things he has. It's hard to know why, but it's always been that way."

"Actually I think he's getting better at believing he's earned the things he's got, the fans and the success, that he's got them through his own hard work. It's just all come so fast for him, it fools him into thinking it's been _handed_ to him instead, you know? Jack Albertson, the show was supposed to be _his_ vehicle, and his career built over decades on stage and movies and all that, but Freddie just caught fire. And Freddie thinks that since he's gotten here so fast, it must mean that he hasn't earned it. But he _has_ earned it, everyone around him tells him that."

Maria nodded. "Anyone who can help him understand that must be a very good friend to him. It's good to know you're more to him than a secretary."

"It's way more than that, I don't think even I knew how much when I started," Molly confided, "When you work so closely with someone you really have to connect personally. He has to trust me completely, like an agent or manager, but it's an every day thing. He can't afford to have to ask questions about whether or not I know what I'm doing, what's right for him. and I have to know him very well to be sure what's right. I learned that's why an agent can handle lots of performers, but in my job you can only work with one person at a time. It's very absorbing." She paused and took a leap of faith. "And I have to tell you, that works both ways sometimes. Freddie's been a very good friend to me too. Yeah he's young, but he understands things that a lot of others don't. He's listened to me, to my problems, sometimes when it wasn't fair to expect him to understand but he managed to anyway."

Without looking directly at her Maria admitted, "Freddie told us about your trouble with that man. He was so worried for you, _chica_, and didn't know what to do to help. I told him, be patient. I told him that to be a good friend sometimes you need to listen first and see what is needed later."

Molly smiled. "Well he paid attention to you. That's exactly what he did, he listened and asked questions and I know it bothered him to see me come in sometimes with bruises and so upset, and I really tried hard not to worry him. He has enough on his plate, not quite twenty-four and with a TV show and screaming fans and all that. But I guess when you work with somebody every day it's just not possible to hide everything and keep it all separate."

"Freddie loves you very much." A simple definitive statement, Maria seemed to address it to the silver spoon that she was smearing with polish.

Molly gulped inwardly. "Well I love him too, Maria, we're friends, not just in business together. I think we were friends almost from the start, something just clicked. It's why we do so well together, in spite of the age difference. Some people just, well, match up in unexpected ways."

Maria waited for her to finish, then went on. "I don't mean how you have been. I mean how you are now. More than friends."

Molly put down the serving fork she was finishing. She wanted to get up and run, and was about to rub her hands over her eyes, but Maria stopped her.

"You mustn't get the polish on your face, _chica_, it will burn you." She looked Molly in the eye and spoke plainly. "You love Freddie as he loves you. Am I right?"

Molly took a deep breath to steady her voice. It almost worked.

"When did he tell you, about the way things are between us now? It's very recent, I swear, just a few months." _Oh God, how do I explain?_


	3. Mother knows best

"He didn't have to tell me, Molly. I know my son. I think I knew in my heart when he called, after he knocked you down that night he tried to fight with your... with that man who hurt you. He called told me,'Ma I don't know what to do, she has so much trouble and I can't help her, I only messed things up worse.' I think I knew then, I could hear the tears in his voice. I thought then that things maybe had changed, you don't sound that way for just anyone. It wasn't what he said, but how he said it. I didn't have to be a fortune teller."

Molly searched for disapproval in Maria's voice, but she could hear none. "Okay, yes, things had changed. They changed the night of the Emmy awards. It surprised us both." She sighed. "I don't know what to say. I had been through so much trouble by then, I don't think I believed there was anything else to be _had _but trouble. And there was Freddie, gentle and caring and understanding, always there for me. I _believe_ him when he says I'll be okay, when he says I'll be as good as I was before I was in the middle of all that bad stuff and misery, before I even began working for the studio. When I look in his eyes I can believe anything." She stopped, embarrassed to be speaking so openly. "I know it's wrong, and I know I look like I'm taking advantage of him and a situation I was supposed to keep professional. I swear, Maria, there is nothing I'm 'after' here, and it's crazy to think anyone would believe it. I know it's wrong to be so attached to somebody like Freddie, he's so _young_ and just starting out and so vulnerable. I'd say I couldn't help it, but that's a sorry excuse. I can't imagine what you must think of me." She managed to look up from the table at Freddie's mother.

"Are you Catholic, Molly?" Maria asked.

She flinched, expecting the worst. "Uh, no."

"I asked because you sound as if you're confessing your sins. For nearly three years I've known you've care of Freddie's professional life, but more than that that listened to his troubles, supported him and given him good advice even though it could have gotten you in trouble. I know because he told me. What should I think now? That all of that was a lie, that you were waiting to take advantage of my son's youth and inexperience and trust, that you're after his money or success? How old are you?"

"Forty." It was an embarrassed mumble.

"Then you have your _own_ money and experience and success, or you wouldn't have the job you do and you wouldn't have been trusted to work with Freddie. This 'change' between you and Freddie, it puts your job in danger, am I right?"

Molly nodded. "And my reputation. It would look terrible for everyone to see me in this relationship with Freddie, people in Hollywood and entertainment in general always see the worst. It wouldn't hurt Freddie though, not professionally, I'm certain of that."

"That's important to you."

"The most important thing. Everything I've done for three years has been to help and protect him. Not just because I'm paid to do it, because he deserves it. So many people want a piece of him, Maria, and you have to believe I would never be one of those people, never. I have no right to say this, you don't know me at all, but you mustn't think I have bad intentions even if I made a bad decision."

Maria smiled. "'Bad' is a strong word. My son was brought to Hollywood straight from my home, he was surrounded with fame and money and people who won't always have his well being in mind. You know he had many women and girls, many parties, many things that could have hurt him if he'd continued with them. Many 'bad things. It must be hard to steer him away from the harmful things, the alcohol, the drugs someone like him could have been pulled into."

"Oh, yeah. And it worked up to a point, I think. At least he was aware of what he was doing, even if he stayed a little wild." She smiled at Maria. "He'll always be a little wild."

"You're talking to his mother, Molly. Nobody knows that better than me. But in the beginning I'd see his picture in the news, or on TV, with many different girls women older than he was. Sometimes he'd tell me 'Ma, I met someone,' but it would never last. Two weeks, a month, maybe a little more. I know there must have been some that were so short he didn't bother telling me. They probably just wanted a piece of him but not all of him." She smiled and shook her head. "My son, once fat and awkward, and now very handsome and very charming. Women 'notice' him but not always for the right reasons. And even though I'm his mother I can admit he'd say 'yes' more than he'd say 'no', even when he'd know it wasn't himself they wanted, it was something else."

Molly regarded Maria with wide eyes. "If you only knew how often he's told me that. That everyone wants pieces but doesn't want to know him for real."

Maria raised a finger to interrupt. "Ah, but then there was one time, right after the Emmy awards, when he called and didn't tell me about who he'd just met. And Molly, we could hear he was calmer, he sounded happier. Freddie never knew where he would fit in. Not completely Jewish, or Hungarian, or Puerto Rican, his humor was what he used to create his own place but he never knew where he would fit in. It takes time I tell him, but with all the other things coming so fast he was in a hurry and easily frustrated. But lately there's less uncertainty, maybe. A _little_ less. If the 'change' with you is helping that happen, how can I think it's wrong? And why do you think so?"

Molly was staring at her hands. "Because... because I always seem to hurt him. I don't mean to, but I do. I get scared, I push him away, I throw up walls between us. It's not fair to him…" she trailed off.

"He told me how hard it was for you just to accept things, how much he wanted to help you but didn't know how. 'I'm just a kid, Ma,' he'd tell me, 'help me know what to do.' He didn't have to tell me he was hurt, it was in every word he said."

"I'm so ashamed of that," her voice was a near-whisper, "you know what they say about age and treachery."

"'Treachery' is another strong word, and I don't think you mean it. Freddie's was so happy when he told us you would be coming here with him. And if I wasn't completely sure how things were with you, I had my clues but wasn't completely sure, when I saw his face as he brought you in the door, that told me everything. When I saw you talking in the hallway, his face, your face, I was sure. If you love Freddie as you seem to love him, knowing how much he loves you, knowing this has come from years of another kind of friendship, what can I say? It may not be something I would do myself, but if you're willing to risk so much to be with him, who am I to say it's bad?"

"I wouldn't hurt him," Molly told Maria in an urgent voice, "not to save my life. If it looked like this would hurt him, his career or the life he deserves, I 'd stop it, I swear."

Maria touched Molly's hand. "I know why you say that, but I don't think that would be your decision to make. Not now." Maria thrust the serving fork and rag back into Molly's hands. "Welcome to Freddie's home and family. You have nothing to fear from us. Now let's get this silver finished, or we'ill never be ready in time for tomorrow."

Molly felt slightly out of breath, taken aback and more than a little stunned by their conversation. She polished without speaking, for a long time. Finally she spoke up again. "Thanks so much, Maria. Thanks for welcoming me, and for not judging me. Even if I honestly don't know _how_ you can't."

"If being with you makes my son happy, age means nothing. If you take care of his feelings and his life, nothing else is important. He's my son, my only child. His happiness is everything to me."

Molly grinned. "Me too."

They worked together in silence until Freddie and his dad returned.

* * *

"Maria, my love," called Freddie's dad, "did you even shop for _anything_ before today?"

Maria smiled knowingly at Molly. "Why yes,_ mi amor_, those are just the odds and ends."

Freddie helped his father bring in the groceries and came into the dining room wearing the slightly shell-shocked look Molly knew she must share. Mr. Pruetzel came close behind, and exchanged a meaningful look with his wife.

"Molly, _chica_, I'm going to help Karl put things away," Maria announced. "You show Freddie what needs to be done here."

They were left alone.

"So, uh, did your dad had the same 'talk' with you that your mom had with me?" she asked him.

He ran a hand over his face and up through his hair. "I think so."

They locked on each other's eyes, then dissolved in laughter.

"They are pretty slick, your parents. Or you are as transparent as Saran Wrap, that's for sure. 'They know everything else about us _except_ this us.'" she mimicked. "Yeah, right."

"You know," Freddie told her when he got his breath, "Dad said ma insists we should stay here."

Something about "dad said ma insists" raised a little red flag for Molly. "It's a nice offer, but it would feel just a little too weird for me. I hope they don't mind."

"Nah. I told dad that would probably send you right over the edge. You being so nervous about this and all."

She pinched him on the arm. "Ow! What was that for?"

"For blaming everything on me. You thought they _never suspected, _so admit it... you had a cow when your dad brought it up."

"Not true!" Freddie raised his hand as if swearing on the bible… then shrugged. "Well maybe a _baby_ cow." He held his hand close to the floor. "Like that big, maybe." He stood behind Molly's chair and gave her shoulders a squeeze. "You okay with all of this?"

She nodded and tipped her head back to look up at him. "Totally. You were right, of course. I'm fine, this is gonna be a great time. You promised, right?"

"You can't do that without getting this," and he bent and kissed her lightly on the lips, nose, and forehead.

"It feels good not to have to sneak a look to see who might be watching."

He slid his hands down and tweaked her breasts. "I see what you mean."

She slapped his hands away. "Jesus Carlito, are you crazy?" she whispered frantically, shooting a look up the hall.

He laughed out loud. "_Pollo_, _pollo_!" he sang to her, and clucked in her face.

She stood up to face him. "I'll give you '_pollo_'!"

"Uh-uh, it's Thanksgiving. We gotta have turkey. Hunga-Rican turkey."

She dropped back into her chair. "Shaddup and sit down here and help me. Smear that nasty blue stuff on the silverware and I'll wipe it off."

He gasped in horror. "And ruin my beautiful, elegant hands?" He held them up, spreading the fingers, and continued in his perfect British accent. "Surely you jest, my dear."

"_Maria_," Molly hollered, "make Freddie _help_ me!"

Freddie tried to clamp a hand over her mouth, but was too late. His mother entered the room to see him gagging Molly with his right hand, the left holding her in the chair.

"Frederick Karl Pruetzel," she scolded, "take your hands off that nice lady, and sit down and help her with the silver."

"_Si_, Ma," he answered meekly.

When Maria had left the room he hissed to Molly, "Trouble maker!"

She smiled smugly. "I guess mom just likes me better."

"Yeah, well wait'll we get back to the hotel, smartass, you'll get yours."

She blew a pfffllllt in his face. "Promises, promises. Now, smear. Or I'm tellin' ma."


	4. What's Hungarian for 'whore?

Kisses at the back of her neck woke her. "Mmm, Carlito," she breathed, and stretched luxuriously in his arms, turning to face him.

"Kiss me, baby," she requested, and he happily complied.

"Good morning, Molly."

"Good morning, Freddie." She kissed him one more time and asked, "What time are we supposed to be at your parents' house?"

"Two o'clock. We have to show you off to the rest of the family."

"Oh god," she groaned, "I hate being on display."

"Now you can see how it feels!"

She ran her hands down to his ass and gave it a squeeze.

"I'd rather see how _you_ feel."

He liked that idea. A lot. "I got us a Jacuzzi," he purred. "Wanna get dirty and clean at the same time?"

Still half asleep, she let him carry her into the bathroom and run the tub before he peeled off her nightgown, kissing whatever new place was exposed. When it was full he kicked on the motor and drew her into the hot water with him. She straddled his lap and kissed him until her lips were sore, swallowing his moans as she moved on him. She let his head drop back and reveled in the lost, pleasured expression on his face. She really got off on his face when he was so far gone, no more little-boy there, all burned off by their heat and leaving nothing but a passionate man. She kissed his face all over then dropped her mouth to his neck, where she worked him over from side to side and up and down his throat. He whimpered and cried out, and when she nipped under his ear he came hard, gripping her hips tight and grinding her against him.

"Think mom and dad will know what we've been up to?" she teased him when she'd caught her breath.

"I don't care," he panted. "Dad might as well think you want me for this as my money."

She gave him an evil smile and laugh. "I can live with that. He must have seen those jeans you wear on Chico."

After they got dried off and wrapped in bathrobes, and she asked him, "So, Mr. Personal Assistant, what did you pick out for me to wear?" She fell silent as he pulled the dress out of the closet. The one she'd worn to the Emmy awards, and not worn since. "Wow. Sure. Okay. I love that one."

"Me too." He dug into her carry-on, pulled out a silk jewelry purse and opened it on the bed. "I think I got everything here." Molly was stunned to see every detail of the jewelry she'd worn that night, even the silver hair clip he'd been keeping in his tuxedo jacket pocket. "Did I get everything?"

"Yeah," she said in disbelief. "How the hell did you _remember_ all of this?"

His animation evaporated and was replaced by a dreamy smile. "I remember everything about that night. Everything." He took her face in his hands. "Kiss me, pretty."

"Did you tell your father that it was _you_ who seduced _me_ and not the other way around?"

"Now wait a minute, I might have talked you into kissing me but you're the one who locked the door behind us and asked me to stay."

"Bullshit. You were planning to stay when you sent that limo away. Oh, you woulda called a cab if I said 'no', but you knew I wouldn't."

He stared at his feet like a little kid. "Oh, okay then. Yeah I had an evil master plan, except it was from the minute I saw you when I picked you up. It was like a punch in the gut, seeing you there all dressed up."

"A punch in the gut. How romantic."

He leaned down into her face. "You wanna talk romantic? How about me waking up to you crying your head off like you'd picked up the loser of the universe and didn't know how to get rid of him? I couldn't figure out if it was that you decided you'd made a _terrible_ mistake, or if I was that bad in bed."

At that she laughed herself nearly sick. "For Christsake, Prinze, you are the best lay I've had in my adult life. All I could think of was, no wonder he has women all over him like sequins on a showgirl!"

"Hhmm, nice analogy. Mind if I use it?"

"Nope." She began to sort out her clothes. He approached her from behind, not touching her but leaning close to her ear.

"Am I _really_ the best lay you've ever had?"

"I didn't say 'ever'," she corrected pointedly. "I said 'in my adult life'. There was a guy, when I was eighteen and he was twenty two, oh _baby._"

"Must be why you like young guys, huh? Energy, technique," he suggested, moving closer.

She stepped out of his reach. "If you keep talking dirty to me we are never gonna get to your parents' house."

Once Molly was dressed Freddie told her, "I got you all designed, so you pick something out for me, okay?"

She rummaged through what he'd hung in the closet, and selected a blue velvet jacket with white shirt and grey trousers. "Yummy," she declared as she handed them to him.

He looked a little queasy. "I'm not supposed to look 'yummy', this is my family we're gonna be with!"

"Well it's okay if you look yummy for _me_ and respectable for _them_, right? So this here will accomplish both."

He got dressed and did a spin in front of her. "So?"

"_Yummy_," she purred and wrapped her arms around his waist, inside his jacket. "But respectable," she added primly. They laughed together.

"You are too much, woman."

"Too much woman?"

"That too. C'mon, let's go."

"Wait a minute," she pulled him to a halt. "Look, no matter whether your father thinks I'm a cradle-snatching gold digging ho' or not, thank you for bringing me. I adore your mom. I know it's gonna be a good day. Thank you for not taking 'no' for an answer." She rose on tiptoe to kiss him. "Cluck, cluck."

* * *

When they arrived there was already a gathering of cars outside and an even bigger gathering of people inside. Molly was suddenly overcome with an attack of uncertainty and shyness and hung back for a second, gripping Freddie's hand.

"Gonna be fine, _besita,_ I promise," he whispered over his shoulder.

Maria took Molly in hand the minute they entered, allowing Freddie to circulate and greet the family from which he'd been long absent. "Don't worry, _chica_," she promised, "we haven't discussed your private business. You're here as Freddie's assistant, and friend." She held Molly at arm's length for a moment. "That's the dress you wore to the Emmy show, isn't it?"

"Yes it is." She tried to suppress a blush. "Freddie picked it out for today."

"He's very sentimental, my son. But don't ever tell him we know!"

* * *

The day was filled with laughter and warmth. Freddie's relatives greeted Molly with great curiosity, fascinated to meet the woman they knew "kept the wild boy in line," and told her many tales of his adventures as a precocious teenager. After dinner she fell into a particularly animated discussion with his handsome cousin Carlos, who was an avid film buff and knew a great deal about classic films and film-making. He wanted to know if she was dating anyone in L.A., if she would be interested in having dinner before she and Freddie headed home.

"Well we're here until Tuesday," she told him. "But the schedule is up to Freddie, for once. As for the other question, don't be offended but that's a little personal for someone I just met, even if you are Freddie's family!"

* * *

By late evening Maria and Freddie were at the door as the family and other guests took their leave, and Molly and Karl were left in the kitchen organizing the dirty dishes.

"So you've met my nephew Carlos?"

"Yes, we talked quite a lot in fact."

"He's not only handsome, but quite clever. Nearly thirty-five, and already well up the ladder at his financial firm."

"I gathered that. He's an ambitious guy." She was stacking plates when Karl fixed her with a serious gaze.

"I have to ask you, Molly. What exactly do you want with Freddie?" His voice was polite, but a little cold.

Taken aback, Molly replied, "I don't think I know what you mean."

"I mean you're forty years old, with a well developed career and your own life. What could you want with someone barely a man, insecure and uncertain where he is headed, surrounded by all manner of attention and sudden success?"

"Well, Mr. Pruetzel, for quite some time now I've made it my job to make sure Freddie _gets_ more certain, _is_ headed in the right direction, and that all those people surrounding him don't push or pull him in the wrong direction."

He frowned. "I'm not talking about your job. I'm talking about much more than work." He halted the pretense of cleaning, and Molly had already abandoned the dishes.

She took a deep breath. Well now or never, she figured. "Okay, I'll make it very clear. I love Freddie. I've loved him as a friend for a long time, and now it's gone deeper. I don't 'want' anything from him."

It was plain that Freddie's father was not even nearly convinced. "I find that _very_ hard to believe. You seem a smart and capable woman, what could a twenty-three year old boy have to offer you? He has told us about the man you were with, the one you finally left and any sane woman would have left years ago. Is that why, because Freddie _is_ young, and doesn't challenge you, and you feel he's harmless and easy to control?"

"You're right about one thing, I waited way too long to leave Reggie. and maybe that _is_ what drew me closer to Freddie in a way. But not a challenge? You couldn't be more wrong. And what he offers me is what he offers _everyone_. His kindness, his gentle nature, his understanding and support and humor. Is he like that only because he's young? I don't think so. It's just who he is, at least I see it that way. How can you not know what there is in him to love, I mean, you're his _father._"

Karl's veneer of patience, never very deep, wore thinner.

"I don't need you to tell me about my own son. He 'followed his star' to California. He went wild with women and parties, and maybe this is your way of keeping him under control, this affair of yours. Better he's obsessed with one woman than chasing after a dozen and endangering the interests of others."

"That's not true!" Molly burst out. "Freddie isn't 'obsessed' with me, I do my job with him the same as always and his position in the show is very secure. I'd never endanger that, not for any reason. His security and success is my first interest."

"Why, then? Why not someone of your own age, and experience in life? Is it that it's amusing to have an affair with a very young man? Or perhaps it's his romantic prowess... you wouldn't be the first to want that."

Molly's eyes widened. She couldn't believe he was talking like this.

"Well as long as we are being _frank_, Mr. Pruetzel, the answer is no. I'm forty years old, as you have observed, and have had much more 'romantic' experience than your son, so no that isn't what attracted me. Why can't you believe I can just love him for himself? Hasn't he told you about the people who want a piece of him, a piece of Chico, a piece of Freddie the TV star? Never just him all at once. I want him as he is, all of him, not in pieces. Why a twenty-three year old? Do you think I've never asked _myself_ that? I stopped asking why when he helped me get through the worst time of my life. My best friend Wendy, who is close to my age and also 'experienced' in life, tells me that if Freddie is good to me, and loves me as much as he seems to, then I should ignore the birth certificate and hang on with both hands. So that's what I'm doing. Your wife mostly understands, or at least she accepts it. Why do you distrust me so much?"

"My wife is easily convinced, blinded by her love for our son. But I can't see you finding anything more in my son than any..." Then he spoke a harsh-sounding word, in Hungarian she supposed. She didn't need a translation. "What any woman like that would find in a wealthy younger man."

Molly shook her head, overwhelmed by his hostility. "I'm sorry you feel that way. You go ahead and believe what you like about me, but don't you sell Freddie so short. You're his father. You should see him for who he is, not who you want him to be."

Neither one of them had seen Freddie standing in the kitchen door, his rage increasing by the minute. He burst into the kitchen when his father addressed Molly with the ugly Hungarian term.

"What the hell are you saying, Dad? What the hell are you _calling_ her?"

"It's okay, Freddie." Molly tried to calm him, but he wouldn't be calmed.

"The hell it is. Dad you need to show Molly more respect than that!"

If the word "imperious" required an illustration, at that moment Karl Pruetzel would have fit the bill.

"Why should I show 'respect' to a woman who wants to use you for who knows what reasons?"

"Because she has shown _you_ respect by coming into your home and being decent and charming to your family, helping ma, and since you asked, _Dad,_ she has helped _me _for years and has listened to everything you turned away from!"

His father snorted, then sneered. "So she's your mother now, too? Well she is nearly old enough. Can't you figure _anything_ out, Freddie? She wants the 'hot young TV star' just like all the others, and at the same time she can keep you under control for your employers! What kind of life have you found out there, wasting yourself on all this money and foolishness?"

Ignoring the age-old argument, Freddie shouted, "I heard what you called her! How could you _say_ that? I want you to apologize, now."

By this time Maria was in the kitchen as well. "Karl, Molly is Freddie's guest, you mustn't say those things to her."

"She is Freddie's _very_ 'personal assistant' and who knows what else she wants! A paycheck used to be enough, but no more."

"Dad, stop it! I love her, that's why she's here, and she loves me. Who cares how old we are?"

"Spoken like a foolish boy." He turned away, but Freddie grabbed his arm roughly to pull him back.

"I'm a _man_, not a boy."

"And you can prove it by making love to this middle aged professional woman, I suppose? Instead of knowing how to live your life in a constructive way, you're wasting it being a sucker to money and fame."

Freddie was as apoplectic as his father was icy. He turned away, shaking with fury, and told Maria, "We're leaving this house. Until he apologizes to Molly I don't want to come back."

Molly was standing speechless near the door. She desperately wanted to calm down Freddie, even if she was past wanting to convince his father that there was nothing to be suspicious of.

"Mr. Pruetzel," she attempted a last time, "I _love_ Freddie. I don't care how young or old he is."

"He's a kid, what does he know of love? He's a kid, without sense enough to get a real job and make real friends."

"Karl, please," Maria tried to reason with her husband, who had fixed Molly with an angry glare.

"No. Freddie is careless enough, he doesn't need this woman to encourage him to be even more so!"

Molly edged toward the door, taking Freddie's hand. It seemed the only thing to do to stop the shouting. "Come on, let's go, Freddie" she urged him. "Let's let things cool down." He shook her off.

"Dad, I'm not gonna let you treat her like this. I love her, and I'm not being encouraged to go in the wrong direction except by _you_. You never believed in me, you never encouraged me in _anything_ but staying in this lousy town and going into some stupid ass business. I'd still be washing dishes if I'd listened to you, but I'm doing what I want now and you can't _stand_ that I'm doing well with it. I won the _Emmy__award_, dad, and you couldn't even congratulate me! I've found somebody I really care about, and you talk to her like she's trash, you can't believe she could ever see anything in me worth caring about. Well I've had it, okay? If you wanna see the worst in me, fine. I'm through listening to you, and I won't listen to you trash Molly." He turned on his heel and strode from the room, grabbing Molly's hand as he passed.

Maria's angry hiss carried into the hallway. "Karl, what are you _thinking_?" She followed them to the door. "Freddie, Freddie please, he's talking crazy. Don't leave like this, please."

He turned to face her. "What then, ma? I put up with it, I put up with it for Molly? Hell no. The only crime she committed is to support me and help me keep it together. I guess that was okay until she fell in love with me, and _that_ makes her some kind of whore? And me, I committed the crime of being a success at what I want to do, and that makes me a loser? No more, ma, no more." He caught his mother in a tight hug. "I'll call before we leave."

Maria reached for Molly. "I don't apologize for him, but I'm so very sorry."

Molly kissed Freddie's mother on both cheeks. "I'll talk to you later." Freddie had already surged out the door and was halfway to the car. She ran after him. He opened the door for her and stomped around to get in his side, cranking the ignition and slamming the car into drive. They were off in a screaming squeal of tires.


	5. A heart on the edge

"Freddie, slow down, please!" she begged him. His eyes were glued to the road, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He was driving far too fast.

"Carlito, _please_, you're scaring me." Her voice was shaking. He slowed down, squeezed the back of her neck.

"Okay, Molly, okay." They drove to the hotel in silence. When they got upstairs, Freddie hurled his wallet and keys across the room. Molly jumped a mile.

"Calm _down_."

He turned to her with a furious expression. "How can you say that to me? Do you _know_ what he called you?"

"Well I don't speak Hungarian if that's what you mean, but it sounds the same in just about every language. Look, all in all it worked out better than I expected. Really."

He hissed in exasperation so she decided to leave him alone for a bit. She went into the bedroom and changed into sweat pants and a t shirt. When she returned to the living room he was seated on the sofa, staring straight ahead, his rage dissipated into a look of deep sadness.

"Why doesn't he believe in me, even a little?" he asked. "Why doesn't he believe somebody like you could love me?"

Molly sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, and beckoned him to lie down. "Come on, Freddie, stretch out here and try to relax, okay?" She pulled him onto his back, head in her lap, and stroked his hair over and over. With the other hand she traced his forehead, his eyebrows, nose, and mustache.

"Easy," she soothed, "it's gonna be okay. I promise." He looked up at her with bottomless, sad eyes.

"He's my _father_, it's not supposed to be like this."

"Hey, everybody fights with their parents. It's part of getting older, you're grown up and he still sees you as a kid."

"It's not that," he lamented. "Why doesn't he see anything worthwhile in me? Do you know how it feels to see it in his face, that he's so unable to believe anybody could love me for _me_. You knew me after only a year, all of me, to the bone. Why doesn't my fucking _father_ know me, even a little?"

She couldn't answer that. She'd never seen such hurt in him; there had to be a long history here, and this was, apparently, just the latest confrontation. She picked up one of his hands and pressed it to her cheek, kissing his palm.

"I love you, Freddie, all of you, for what it's worth."

He offered a weak smile. "It's worth everything, Molly. You know that."

"Close your eyes. I'm here. It's gonna be okay." She touched his eyelids lightly and he closed them. Such beautiful long lashes. She unbuttoned his shirt and slipped her hand inside, resting over his heart, thumb stroking back and forth on the soft skin. "I love you," she repeated in a near whisper. The corners of his mouth trembled upward slightly, but she saw tears slip from the corners of his eyes. She let them go. He was so hurt; he'd earned the right to cry and she wasn't about to tell him not to. She wouldn't interfere. She continued to stroke his hair, her light touch at odds with her anger at the ease with which his father could smash Freddie's good mood, how easily he could make him doubt himself. Freddie's long fingers curled around the hand caressing his chest.

"You have to believe I love you, somebody 'like me' loves you so much," she promised. "Don't get so worked up about your dad, he's just worried about you."

Freddie's sweet features distorted with an angry frown. "Yeah, he's worried. He's worried I'll do all right without listening to him. He's worried somebody might really love me for me, even though I'm not doing what he thinks I should." His face was hard, but his voice was flat and hollow.

"Look, I won't tell you not to be sad, because there's no other way to feel right now. I don't know how far back this goes with your dad. But just take it easy, this won't last forever."

He sighed. "It already has."

She kissed the hand that surrounded hers. "I'm here, Freddie. It'll be okay."

He sat up a bit and laid his head on her shoulder. "I love you, _bonita_, I don't give a shit what he says, I love you and trust you." She could feel his tears on her neck as he moved his face against her. She hugged him close, and let him cry.

"Why can't _he_ love me? No matter what I do it's not good enough, no matter who I _am_ it's not _good_ enough."

"I don't know, Freddie, I don't know the answers." She stroked and petted and hugged him, whispering whatever soothing words she could think of, telling him over and over how she loved him. She lifted his head so he'd look her in the eye.

"Kiss me, beautiful," she told him with a smile. He pressed his mouth to hers, soft and exploring, as if he didn't know every inch of her already.

"Do you think you can come to bed now?" she asked.

He nodded, and they undressed and crawled into the huge bed, wrapped up close together. She held him silently for a long time, out of words and explanations but wanting him to know she was there for him.

* * *

Some time later Molly stirred in the darkness, roused by sounds from the other room. She reached for Freddie. He wasn't there. She climbed out of bed and put on her robe before venturing out into the dark living room. There was a shadow on the sofa, the sound of quiet weeping. Without speaking she sat next to Freddie and reached her arms around him. He was so much bigger than she was, but right now he'd never seemed so small and lost.

"Sorry," he told her tearfully, "I didn't wanna wake you up."

"S'okay, Carlito." He curled up against her and she rocked him and kissed his hair as he'd done for her when she was coming undone. He cried like an abandoned child, which she supposed was exactly what he felt like.

"Why doesn't he want to know me? Why can't he just be glad I'm good at what I do? I make people laugh, that's a _good_ thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's a very good thing, he just doesn't understand."

"I wanna go home," Freddie declared suddenly. "Tomorrow."

"I don't think that's a good idea, I think you need to talk to your dad again. It's never good to leave things like this."

"Why should I talk to him again, he'll just say all that shit again and put you down and put me down. I can't stand that look on his face, that 'why would anyone love you' look."

"Okay, okay, just let it go for now, okay? Just hold onto me and try to relax," she could feel the tension coming off of him in waves. He sobbed into her shoulder.

"What do I have to _do_? I don't know what to do to make him love me."

Having no answers to Freddie's questions, Molly just held on tight as years of pain and confusion poured out. He would fade into an uneasy sleep, then wake up asking more desperate questions, and cry some more. She rocked him, she kissed him, she whispered loving words to him, but nothing seemed to help very much. Finally he dropped off to sleep in her arms, face pressed into her shoulder. She didn't dare move, wanting him to get at least a little peace. Maria was right, he didn't know where he fit in, and now that he seemed to be making his place doing what he was best at his father was telling him he didn't fit in there, either. She sat there with him until after the sun rose, running her fingers through his hair, holding him close. At last he opened his eyes, red and wet. He'd cried in his sleep, too. He shifted against her, sitting up to look at her.

"Did you go to sleep at all?" he wanted to know.

"I'm okay. You were so upset, I wanted to stay with you and make sure you'd be okay." She knew she must look like shit.

He frowned, and sat up suddenly. "I wanna call the airline. We're going home tonight."

"I think that's a bad idea," Molly insisted. "Go to your parent's house, talk to your father again. You say he doesn't know who you are, well introduce yourself. If you just run off home he'll be left believing what he wants to. He thinks you're still a willful kid; go and talk with him like two men. Don't let him drive you away, don't let him break your heart like this. Please, your mother is so disturbed by this, it would hurt her so much if we just took off."

Freddie stood and stretched. "No. I'm not putting up with his shit any more. We're going home."

Molly took a deep breath and looked up at him, a wounded boy hiding in the body of a grown man.

"If you go tonight you're going alone," she told him. "I won't leave here until you talk to your father again."

"Huh? You're saying you'd stay here alone?" He eyed her closely, and challenged, "So when would you come back?"

"I don't know. Monday, Tuesday, whenever. But I am not gonna slink out of town like a whipped dog, no way. He insulted me, your father did, and I'm not gonna leave until at least some small thing between you is settled. I don't care what, but something. You have to _talk_ to each other, not yell and swear in Hunga-Rican and carry on some testosterone-fueled pissing contest. It's hurting your mother, and it's not doing me any good either. I love you, Freddie, and it makes me sick to see you hurting like this when you can at least try to do something about it."

"But I've _always_ been the one to try," he insisted stubbornly. "I've always been the one to say 'dad, why'? I never got any answers."

Molly got up and gestured vaguely with both hands. "I dunno, maybe you asked the wrong _questions_. Maybe you should ask him what he really wants from you, what he thinks you _should_ be doing, something a little more concrete than a 'real' job and 'real' friends. You're a man, Freddie, talk to him like a man. Tell him why you do what you do, what you get out of it, why it's what you do best. Just from that little I saw, I can tell you just bang your heads together like a couple of alpha bucks and never really _say_ anything. If you'd both just stop expecting each other to cave in and agree, maybe you could meet halfway. All I know is I'm not going nowhere with you unless you go back to that house and try. Both of you think being right is more important than anything. That's bullshit and you know it."

Freddie stared at her for a minute or two,then ran his hands over his face. "You mean it, don't you? You'll camp out here until whenever, use up your expense account, leave me home alone with my mail and my schedule."

She stood inches away, staring up into his face with eyes that were as bloodshot as his. "That's right. I am as serious as a heart attack."

"Okay." He dropped his head, sighed, and looked her in the eye again. "_Shit_, you are a hard woman. Okay. I'll get cleaned up and go to ma and dad's. But no promises. All I can do is show up. You gonna come referee?"

She rubbed her eyes, exhausted, and fell back onto the sofa. "Hell no, I'm gonna try to get some sleep. I am completely wasted."

At once he looked very guilty. "I'm so sorry, Molly," he sat down next to her and took her hand. "You take care of me and we come for a holiday and you _still_ take care of me. I love you," he kissed her hand, back and palm.

She smiled wearily. "I love you too. If I didn't, I would've decked your old man when he called me a whore."

In spite of everything, Freddie laughed out loud. "And you are just the woman who could do it!" He went into the bedroom and changed into blue jeans and a blue denim shirt. Not his signature Chico skintight jeans, she noticed gratefully. She burrowed into bed as he finished getting dressed, and already had closed her eyes when she felt him sit next to her.

"What would I do without _mi dulcinea_?" he asked. He kissed her forehead before he got up and left. She heard the door to the suite close, and turned over to try to sleep. As if cued by some demonic stage manager, the phone rang. She flung one hand out and managed to drag the receiver next to her face.

"Molly O'Rourke." she answered in an automatic mumble.

_"Oh. Yes."_

It was Karl Pruetzel, and he sounded very uneasy.

_"I wanted to call to apologize for saying those terrible things to you."_

In her mind's eye Molly could picture Maria standing behind him, bathing him in the fire of an evil glare.

"Mr. Pruetzel," Molly began, then sighed in exasperation. "I am way too tired for company manners. The person you need to apologize to is Freddie, and he just left here on the way to your house. If you're smart you'll listen while he talks and try to understand who your son is and what he's doing with his life besides pissing you off."

_"Now I don't think…" _Karl's voice developed the edge she'd heard yesterday but Molly wasn't in the mood to let him get started on another rant.

"Lemme tell you something, Mr. Pruetzel, Freddie is a grown man and you hurt him so badly yesterday he was crying like a baby when we got back here. Like he'd been thrown out in the street and told never to come back. He's convinced you don't want to know him, that you don't want to accept him as he is. He thinks you'd rather see him fail than see him succeed at something you don't agree with or understand. He thinks you don't _love_ him and he doesn't know what to do to change your mind."

_"That's ridiculous."_

"You wouldn't say that if you saw him. I was up with him all night. He was asking me questions I couldn't answer, like why does his own father think nobody could love him for himself, what is it about him that makes it so hard for you to encourage and support him in what he loves most, what he's best at. He makes people laugh, Mr. Pruetzel, he makes them _happy_,and he can't figure out why that makes him as some sort of vagrant and neither can I. He asked me those things and a lot of other questions I couldn't answer because I don't know how far and how deep this goes back. I do know that if his heart wasn't broken last night that's the closest I ever want to see him come to it. I couldn't answer his questions, all I could do was hold him and tell him it would be okay without knowing if it will. I could tell him I love him but he knows that already... it's _you_ he needs to hear that from. Do you really want him to believe that someone who's only known him three years loves him more than his own father?" There was silence on the other end. "You there?"

_"Yes."_ The edge was gone._ "Well I suppose you told me what you have to say. If you were up all night with Freddie as you said, I must leave you alone to get some sleep."_

"Not before I tell you something else. Freddie wanted to leave today, just change our flight and skip town. I told him he needed to talk to you again. I said I wouldn't leave with him unless he did. Think about that, Mr. Pruetzel. You have about ten minutes to think really hard about that... he's coming there because of me and not you. So if you send him away again like you did last night, it could be for the last time. You heard of William Butler Yeats?"

"Yes. The Irish poet."

"Right. Well he said 'too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart.' I'm telling you that Freddie's heart is right on the edge, and I'm not the one who can keep it from turning. Now if you'll excuse me, I am about to pass out. While you were sleeping last night, I was busy holding your son together. Because I love him."

Not waiting for another word, she hung up the phone, rolled over, and crashed into sleep.

* * *

"Wake uuuupp..." a familiar voice sang in Molly's ear.

Somebody was lying next to her, on top of the covers. Somebody was lying very close, warm breath in her hair, a finger tracing her ear. She tried to scrooch away. "The handsome prince is here to kiss the UUUGly princess!" A mustache tickled her ear.

"Shit, keep me up all night and wake me up when I finally get to sleep," she bitched. He rolled over, half on top of her. "Mmfff, I can't _breathe_, you big ox."

"Mooo." He kissed her ear again. She wrestled him off enough to roll onto her back.

"What! Don't _tell_ me we're leaving tonight because I need to take it easy for the rest of the day. You and your Dad Wars wore me the fuck out."

He sidled close to her again, his face alongside hers. "No, _besita_, we're not leaving tonight. Dad and me, we yelled a lot but we settled some stuff. Like he doesn't like what I do any more than before but I convinced him I wasn't stolen away by brainwashing gypsies, that I'm doing what I want to do even if he thinks it's stupid. Better to succeed at something stupid than fail at other stuff, right?"

"Yeah whatever."

"He told me he talked to you. He didn't tell me what you said but you sure got his attention. He said you reminded him of ma. That scared the shit out of him, let me tell you. Two of ma, the world isn't ready for." He nuzzled her cheek, all gentle affection. She groaned inwardly with unspeakable relief. "Thank you, _querida_, for blackmailing me into staying. You play rough but I think maybe it's gonna be okay. Possibly."

"Well I promised, didn't I?" She felt his smile, warm kiss, as he rubbed his face against hers.

"Yeah, you promised. Kiss me, pretty, I love you."

She feigned reluctance.

"If I do, will you leave me alone?"

"I doubt it." He lay still against her for a minute, then mused, "Yeah. I feel a whole lot older than I was when I came out here, that's for sure. Three years seem like twenty sometimes, it's not easy to take up where you left off. Or maybe it's not a good idea to try."

"Poor Carlito, you grew up so fast. It's like existential windburn, huh?"

"That's good. Can I use that one?"

"Sure. But first kiss me, beautiful." He did.

"I was scared to death at the Emmy's that night, y'know," he confessed. "Once I figured out what I wanted, that I wanted to get closer to you, when I told you to kiss me I was scared shitless you'd smack me or laugh in my face. I swear I never thought you'd really do it."

"Guess you didn't know me as well as you thought. When I asked you to stay, I was scared too. I was scared that you'd think I was tacky or desperate or something, and afterward when I said you didn't have to stay I was so afraid you'd say 'okay' and hit the road. I think we both started this whole thing being scared shitless."

"Whatta pair, huh?" He looked closely at her. "You wanna go back to sleep for a while?"

"Hell, yeah. It's only been a few hours."

"Want some company?"

"Definitely."


End file.
